


Galatea

by hotbitchshit69



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Romance, Murder, Violence, im going into this with a rough outline of what i want to happen, no pre planning we die like men, tags will be added as the story goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotbitchshit69/pseuds/hotbitchshit69
Summary: "I am the sculptor, a modern Pygmalion, and she is my masterpiece."ORFrankenstein meets Pygmalion except it's a Creepypasta fanfiction.(FEM READER)
Relationships: Creepypasta/Original Female Character(s), Creepypasta/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> hi there! this is the version of galatea with feminine pronouns (she/her). if you would like to read the version with masculine pronouns, click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300775). if you would like to read the version with gender neutral pronouns, click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29343093/chapters/72072900). thanks!
> 
> first time using ao3, hurray!  
> this isn't my first time writing a creepypasta fanfiction, however. it's been a few years though. i'd drop my old wattpad if it wasn't deleted.  
> anyway, i'm really sorry if my character interpretations don't fit your expectations. they aren't meant to be realistic at all. i was introduced to these guys when i was relatively young, so their personalities will likely stem from how i saw them then.  
> anyway, i'm just going to jump right into it, and i'll see you at the end of this chapter!

She didn't know where she was going. She didn't know where she could go. Hell, she didn't even know where she was. All she knew was that she needed to get away from where she had been. 

The forest was cold and quiet, dead leaves carpeting the forest floor in a sea of murky brown. She toed her way through the dying foliage, feet numb in her mud-caked slippers. The sun shone down on her like a spotlight, leaving her feeling exposed. Though the hood of her windbreaker was up, it didn't do much in the way of covering her face. She didn't like that, but it wasn't as if the woods were bustling with people. She was alone, and she hoped that it would stay that way.

There was a pale blue backpack slung over her shoulder, weighing her down. She could have ditched it, and the further she traveled the more inclined she was to drop it, but she couldn't leave it behind. Everything she needed to know was in that bag, and she couldn't live without it. Not properly, anyway. She knew that it would hurt her too much in the future if she'd given up the one opportunity she had to know who she really was.

It had been three days since she'd last slept, and she was exhausted. But as much as she might've missed her bed and a warm place to stay, she was not going back. She _couldn't_ go back. The cabin was a place of lies and secrets and death. It was a gravesite. She wanted no part of it.

The leaves on the ground crunched with every step that she took, the noise satisfying her ears in a way that only a few things could. She had always been fond of late autumn – at least, she thought she was. It was odd how she knew what she liked and disliked yet couldn't remember a thing about her life before she'd woken up. She couldn't even remember experiencing her own death. It had come to her in nightmares once or twice, but those had disappeared from her memory entirely, only appearing in fleeting moments of déjà vu. 

In a way, not knowing was refreshing. She had the freedom to be who she wanted to, unrestricted by the binds of her past!

Oh, who was she fucking kidding.

The bag on her back bounced rhythmically. It strained her shoulder. She didn't know why a bunch of books were so heavy. Perhaps, she mused, it was the things that the books contained that made them so heavy to her, and not the books themselves. Obscure symbolism, mental strain, whatever. No matter what it was, the bag was still heavy, and she found herself growing weary the more she thought about it.

She took deep breaths as she walked, the cold air chilling her lungs uncomfortably. The forest smelled dully sweet, like some sort of sap, and pine. Under any other circumstances, she'd be appreciating the woods around her, taking in nature as it got ready for its yearly rest. As macabre as it might've been, she found it calming to watch the leaves turn. Everything was quiet as it wound down, eventually falling asleep for the winter. She enjoyed that feeling, the freedom of being alone, tainted as it might be by the creeping paranoia that had haunted her since she'd left the cabin.

The sun inched slowly down the horizon, the sky turning all kinds of delicious oranges and yellows that satisfied her brain. It also worried her; the sunset would only bring the chilly, unforgiving blanket of the night. She didn't think that she would be able to make it through the cold for another night. She might not have been anything like a human, but she did know that the cold bothered her like it would anyone else. She would not die, but she would most definitely freeze.

She cursed herself for not bringing better coverage, but deep down she knew that she couldn't have risked grabbing anything more than what she quite literally had on her back. She had left the house in a panicked frenzy and she wasn't thinking straight. She hadn't even picked up a weapon.

When that realization hit her, she cursed aloud. No warmth, no food, and no means of defending herself. She was roadkill, dead meat walking. Well, technically she was already dead meat walking. She didn't like that thought at all, but she was reminded every time she looked at her bluish patchwork skin. She hated herself, what she had become.

She didn't have time to dwell on that, though, because the first stars were glimmering in the sky that was now a darkening purple. She thought about making a wish, wanting it all to be a dream; she wanted to wake up the next morning in a warm, familiar bed, and a bedroom that she'd decorated herself. She wanted so desperately to be home, but she didn't know what home was. Did she even have one?

A glimmering in the distance caught her eye, and at first, she thought it was just stars, or maybe the moon. But when she squinted to get a better look, she realized that the light was not small or organic enough to be stars, boxy spots through the trees lined in neat rows. Her breath caught, and she realized that it was a building. It appeared to be several stories high from what she could see through the trees, and she could smell smoke, from a fire, maybe? Or a fireplace. The thought of warmth and comfort tempted her closer to the building, but she stopped when she realized the situation that she was in.

A building meant people, and people meant community and help, but that also meant that she might end up dead, or worse, an experiment or a specimen, or-

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't hear the leaves crunch behind her, or the gun cock, or the shot that echoed through the trees around her. The next thing she knew, she was on her knees, looking down at the prominent hole in her chest. Her ears were ringing, and her head swam, but not because of any pain that she could feel. She was so taken aback, and so, so terrified.

It wasn't blood loss that knocked her out, or even the shock from staring at the wound, though the latter might have done it eventually. In the end, it was the butt of her attacker's handgun smashing against the back of her head that changed everything she'd ever known.

Welcome to your new life, [Y/N].


	2. A MASKED MAN AND A SHITTY HOSPITAL GOWN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Y/N] wakes up to her new normal. It's... weird. But it could be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there!
> 
> so this is the first official chapter of this fic. it's around 2.8k words in google docs, and i have to admit that i'm proud of it.
> 
> please note that this chapter is not proofread (yet). if you find any errors please point them out to me. i'm looking to edit and then post this chapter to both other versions of the fic by tomorrow night if possible.
> 
> and i'd like to really quickly thank the people that have read and left kudos on this fic. it genuinely means so much to me that people have enjoyed my work! you guys have no idea.
> 
> please make sure to read the end notes! they're important :)

[Y/N] was awake.

She didn't remember when she woke up. Things got dark when she fell unconscious, and then it was bright, and then she realized she was staring up at a buzzing fluorescent light that turned her surroundings a yellowy white. The air around her hung with the faint smell of mold and the stronger stench of peroxide. She had never been to a hospital before, at least not to her own knowledge, but this would have been what she thought it smelled like.

[Y/N] was on a bed that was not her own, the mattress hard against her already sore back and the sheets too thin to keep her from shivering. Still. she felt oddly comfortable, and so she lay there for a few minutes, unblinking and not registering where she was. She appreciated her sleepy stupor, and she welcomed the oblivious haze that just waking up had brought her. Then, she remembered everything, much too fast.

She took a moment to gather her thoughts, revisiting the days prior to her assault at night. She'd... run away, from that stupid, shitty cabin and the stupid shitty man that lived in it. Just thinking about him made her want to retch. He was a liar and a cheater, and he was the only one who knew why and how she existed the way she did. Unfortunately, much as [Y/N] wanted to spend her time sending bitter, angry thoughts his way, she had to get her bearings. 

She was in the woods, right? Yes, she was in the woods, with her bag of books, and she was running, except she couldn't run anymore, so she was walking. And it was cold. Oh, it was so very cold, and she couldn't continue, but that didn't stop her. How long had she been walking? Three days? Three whole days making a useless trek through her own personal hell left alone to her own thoughts and paranoia.

But then she found a building, a mansion? Or maybe a hotel or a lodge of some sort, but it looked warm and welcoming. She'd wanted to go inside, she remembered. She wanted help, and home, and someone who actually cared about her. And then-  _ oh _ . Right. She got shot.

[Y/N] blinked at the paneled ceiling, trying to register that fact. She was shot, right where her heart was, but she was alive and well. How was that possible? How was  _ she _ possible? She had so many unanswered questions, and things just kept on getting more and more confusing. It was frustrating, yes, but also incredibly terrifying.

And now, here she was, in a place that she did not recognize. That raised another question – where the hell even  _ was _ she?

Slowly, she sat upright, and she became aware of the dull throb in the back of her head and the nerves in her chest screaming. The pain didn't necessarily bother her the way it would bother anyone normal, however, it did annoy her, and she had to shift to get a bit more comfortable. [Y/N] pushed the thin white sheets off of her body, noticing the questionable dark stains on the fabric. She found herself mildly disgusted and then realized that whatever weird blotches there might've been on the shitty sheets were the least of her problems. Well, the least of her problems for the time being, anyway. 

Looking down at herself, she saw that she wore not the tank top and flannel pajama pants that she'd been traveling in, but a faded blue hospital gown peppered in dark polka dots. She felt a bit nauseous at the thought of someone undressing and redressing her, not because she was worried someone would take advantage of her, but because she felt that anyone would be repulsed at the ugly quilt of flesh that her body was.

A quick look down her shirt told her that her gunshot wound had been bandaged and probably stitched up. She assumed the same for the entrance wound on her back. She was grateful for that, at least, but this still pushed the biggest question she had: Who would help her? And why?

[Y/N] looked around at her surroundings. Her sleepy subconscious had told her that she was in some sort of medical environment, and that observation seemed to be correct. To her left, there was something akin to a kitchen countertop lining the walls. There were cabinets both above and below it, as well as a sink. Next to the countertop, on the wall across from [Y/N] was a tall gray door with one of those metal knobs that you only really see in places like public schools and office buildings.

To the left of the bed, there was a tray with medical tools laid out neatly on it. She recognized them from the cabin's basement: A syringe, scissors, tweezers, several scalpels. The worries about being experimented on resurfaced in [Y/N]'s mind, but they quickly subsided. If she were being kept hostage she'd be tied down, probably in someplace clean and high-tech, and she probably would have been kept under strict surveillance. This sorry excuse for an infirmary was far from a government-funded research project, and there didn't seem to be any nosey scientists or security cameras in sight.

Once again, she was left confused. If she wasn't being experimented on, then what was going on? Where the hell was she? There weren't any answers in sight. The only answers she could've had were in that goddamn bag, and even they couldn't have helped her in this situa-

Oh, shit.

Another wave of panic hit her. The bullet must've gone through the bag. The notebooks could've been shredded for all she knew. Where even were the books? She didn't see them anywhere in the musty infirmary. Someone had taken them, maybe, or maybe they were still in the woods, being ruined by weather and eaten by animals. [Y/N] began to hyperventilate, her chest heaving with each shallow, scratchy breath she took. Her hands gripped the sheets so hard that if she had any blood her knuckles would have turned white. She needed to know, it was the only way, she couldn't go back, she couldn't see him again. She knew he would kill her, or worse.

In the midst of her panicked thoughts, the door to the infirmary squealed on its hinges as it opened, and a towering figure stepped inside, holding something. [Y/N]'s panic became something new: fear.

The figure was clad in black from head to toe. [Y/N] couldn't tell if he'd noticed her or not because his face was covered with a bright blue mask that contrasted with his entire outfit. A questionable black liquid dripped from the seemingly bottomless eye holes in the mask. The man's(?) footfalls were heavy as he stepped over to the countertop to set down whatever he'd carried in with him. He seemed to ignore her completely, moving things from the counter into the cabinets to make enough space. He was so tall that he didn't even have to strain to reach the top shelf of the upper cabinets. The man seemed so invested in moving shit around that [Y/N] actually started to think that if she stayed completely still the man would forget about her and leave. She was utterly terrified of this masked figure and did  _ not _ want to interact with him, no matter what kind of explanation he could provide.

Unfortunately, her hopes were crushed when the guy turned around. He did it slowly and nonchalantly; he knew [Y/N] was there. Well, no shit he knew she was there. But he wasn't surprised or angry to see her, or at least, it didn't seem like it? He'd turned around as if he knew her, like he was her doctor or something, and was about to give her news about her condition. [Y/N] didn't know why she was overanalyzing the way the dude turned around. Perhaps it was because it was the only way she could explain the situation to herself. And then the person spoke, and [Y/N] stopped thinking completely.

"Feeling well-rested?"

His voice was deep, sort of raspy, yet almost soothing, and not at all how [Y/N] expected him to sound. She inhaled sharply, doing her best not to make too much noise. She didn't say anything, and instead simply stared at the person across the room from her like a deer in headlights. It was a simple question, of course, but that was sort of what had taken her aback. The circumstances that had brought her into the care of this person (if he even  _ was _ a person) were far from normal, [Y/N] was far from normal, and the man that was now leaning against the counter was definitely far from normal. The mask told [Y/N] that much.

"Not talking, huh?" The guy tilted his head slightly, and [Y/N] pictured whatever quizzical expression he wore under the mask. "I can understand that. I'm not going to press you about much. I thought I'd have to shock you awake," He gestured to the thing that he'd brought into the room with him. It looked like some piece of machinery that was heavily modified with several pieces of wire and scrap metal. There were two longer wires hanging from the box, each with metal clips on the end.

"That's what the bolts on your neck are for, I'm assuming?" Mask Dude, as [Y/N] had dubbed the man in her head, gestured towards [Y/N] with a gloved hand, and she noticed with a dreadful thought that his fingers looked abnormally long. Mask Dude was pointing at the metal bolts on either side of [Y/N]'s neck. Without thinking, she nodded once in confirmation. When it came to how her body worked, that was about the extent of what she knew.

Mask Dude mirrored the action and then continued speaking without missing a beat, "So, I've stitched up both the entrance wound and exit wound. You should be dead, but I think you know that anyway. There wasn’t much I could do about your head. I didn’t find anything there and judging by the uh, lack of blood coming from your bullet wound, I don’t think there’s any internal bleeding.”

He looked at [Y/N] for a moment, as if waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he continued speaking, recommending ways to quell whatever pain she might’ve been in. In a way, [Y/N] was sort of right about him being a doctor-figure. Apparently, he’d been the one to stitch her up and get her in working order, for lack of a better phrase. [Y/N] was grateful for that, and also still shocked by the kindness offered to her by this terrifying stranger.

“-any questions?”

[Y/N] blinked, snapping out of her dazed thoughts to look at Mask Dude. She had  _ so _ many questions, she didn’t even know where to start. Was he the one who shot her? Where was her bag? Where was she? Why did he help her? Who was he?

[Y/N] didn’t exactly want to speak, but sacrifices had to be made in order to get information. This guy seemed pretty willing to be cooperative and help [Y/N] out, so there probably wasn’t any harm in trying to get some answers about her situation. Perhaps she’d found someplace she could stay, at least for a while.

“No..?” Mask Dude once again pulled [Y/N] back to reality. She pictured him quirking an eyebrow at her under his mask, and then took a deep breath, slightly loosening her iron grip on the thin bedsheets.

“Where-” [Y/N] croaked, suddenly painfully aware of how thirsty she was. She didn’t really  _ need _ to drink water, but it certainly helped when it came to talking out loud. She coughed for a second, Mask Dude not moving from his spot across the room. When she finally felt that her throat was lubricated enough for her to form proper sentences, [Y/N] tried again.

“Wh-Where am I?”

[Y/N] stumbled over her words, partly because of nerves and partly because she hadn’t said anything in at least three days. Her voice was scratchy and dry, and at that moment she hated it almost as much as she hated her physical appearance.

“Where are you?” Mask Dude echoed, appearing about as thoughtful as he could with his mask hiding his expression. For a moment [Y/N] worried that even  _ he _ didn’t know where she was, but then he continued speaking.

“You’re in a sort of safe haven for people that, er, aren’t quite normal, to put it generously,” He nodded as if confirming his own statement. [Y/N] sensed that there was a lot more to it than that. “I don’t really want to elaborate too much, since Slender’ll fill you in on all that. He had us take you in for a reason.”

“Slender..?” [Y/N] tilted her head. What kind of name was Slender? Was he the guy who ran this place? She assumed she’d meet the guy eventually, so she just asked the next question on her mind. “Who are you?”

Mask Dude didn’t say anything for a minute. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and he seemed to be contemplating what to say. Finally, albeit a bit dryly, he introduced himself, “I’m Jack. Call me EJ.”

EJ? His name could be weirder, [Y/N] shrugged mentally, though she did wonder what the E in his alias stood for. She wouldn’t press it, she decided. Names sometimes were a sensitive subject, and Mask Dude- _ EJ _ seemed like he didn’t hate [Y/N]. She didn’t want to ruin the acquaintanceship, especially since EJ had implied there were other people outside of the room they were in. 

EJ tilted his head at [Y/N] expectantly, flexing his abnormally long fingers. Right, they were still on about questions. Taking a deep breath, [Y/N] asked, “Were you the one that shot me?”

They stared at each other for a moment, and EJ shook his head. He seemed to be laughing quietly. “Hell no. Guns aren’t my thing. I find scalpels more efficient and precise. Leaves less of a mess.”

If [Y/N] could go pale, she would have. What? Scalpels? Efficient? What the hell was he on about? She was beginning to get a very bad feeling about wherever she was. Was EJ talking about what [Y/N] thought he was talking about? She silently prayed to whatever nonexistent god out there that the creepy masked guy was just on about weird hunting tactics and not homicide. Then again, now that [Y/N] thought about it, he did kind of look like your textbook serial killer. 

_ Jesus Christ, am I trapped in some sort of hellhole murder house!? _

[Y/N] pushed the thought aside quickly, deciding she would talk now and worry later. If she  _ was _ in a murder house, she wasn’t dead or being tortured. Things seemed to be going in her favor.

EJ’s voice brought [Y/N] out of her worrying for the third time, “The guy who  _ did _ shoot you is a bit of an asshole. If you run into him, don’t expect him to apologize. He’ll probably just ignore you.”

Wow, that certainly made [Y/N] feel better about getting shot. The guy must’ve been an asshole if he didn’t care to apologize to someone after pumping their guts full of lead. Or maybe he was just a serial killer. That worry definitely still knawed at [Y/N]’s subconscious.

“Now, uh, assuming you don’t have anything else you want to ask me, I was told to take you up to see Slender once you woke up. You kind of have to do that if you want to stay here.” EJ stood up a bit straighter, getting ready to leave the room.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” [Y/N] said, instinctively swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up. Since she’d been bedridden, she stumbled and nearly fell, not used to walking. EJ made no move to help her. Weird.

Grimacing, [Y/N] noticed that her feet were bare, and the hospital gown didn’t do much in the way of covering anything below her knees. She frowned, too embarrassed about it to ask if there were any clothes that she could wear. She doubted it; the clothes that she had before she got shot were in rough shape from her trek through the forest, and there had to be a massive hole in her tank top.

“You ready?” EJ asked expectantly, as if [Y/N] were about to go on a terrifying adventure and not a hopefully short walk through whatever kind of building she was in. In a way, [Y/N] thought, it was kind of a terrifying adventure. She didn’t know who (or what) they would run into on their way to wherever this Slender character spent his time. Maybe she was just psyching herself out. She hoped that that was the case.

With a sigh, [Y/N] nodded. EJ stepped over to pull the heavy-looking door open, and into the hallway they ventured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> i know it's a bit boring, but like i said there's still some basis that i need to set and there's also some worldbuilding i'm looking to do.  
> i also want to let you know i've made a twitter account! it has the same handle as my ao3 account. if people end up following it, i'll post whenever i update this fic on there, even if it is just one person looking for updates.
> 
> if you enjoyed, i heavily encourage you to leave kudos haha. it means a lot to me.
> 
> that's all! i'll have the next chapters out hopefully within a week or so.


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